


Snow Globe

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Stream of Consciousness, includes Jamie's future nameless wife, old writing old work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jamie grows up, but Jack's still there, making his presence known in little ways.A collection of three short stories.
Relationships: I just want to make that clear - Relationship, No Relationships, anyway it's all platonic, it's almost a paternal Jamie & Jack, or like an older brother/sibling kind of thing
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally three separate stories posted on my fanfiction account (@ sunday showers). They're all in the same 'universe,' so I figured I'd just package them all together as one collection. Edited for spelling errors Nov. 12, 2020, but written and posted from Nov. 25th through the 26th 2012.

**Part One:** Snow Day

or 'the one where Jamie gets married'

* * *

It took Jamie more than a minute to notice he didn't have the ring. He knew that, because the organist played the chorus an extra round, all the while tapping her tip jar as if expecting a rather large bonus for her extended version while he slid his empty hand up and down her (the bride not the organist, thank god) finger, as if hoping it would appear out of thin air.

Across from him, holding his hands in hers, his fiancé didn't seem to mind. Her face was flushed pinker then he'd ever seen it, and her fingers couldn't stop jumping in his, nervous, but excited.

"It's here, uh, somewhere..." he mumbles, his fingers playing around in the deepest corners of his tuxedo pocket. She shakes her head and smiles. Her veil's fallen loose, and hangs from her head on an angle. Jamie pauses, almost laughs at the face her mother is making in the crowd as he takes the time to straighten it.

"Look," he whispers softly, cupping her hands even tighter, "I'm sorry I'm a space-cadet. I love you. And I hope you know that even if I can't prove it to you with a ring."

"NASA would've been happy to have you," she giggles back, pulling her hands from his and instead wrapping them around his neck. She pulls him close and kisses him softly, working her lips against his.

Intertwined in one another's arms, eyes closed, they don't even hear the Priest awkwardly mutter, "I now pronounce you Man and Wife." There's a roar in the pews that spreads among the crowd like a wave. He pulls back first, taking in air like a fish out of water. 

"Ready to head out, Hubby?" she ask with a grin, her hand once again in his. She leads him back down the aisle and they use their free hands to block the rice that rains down around them.

"It's like snowflakes."

"Oh please! It's April, you dork." But she kisses his nose anyway. "Jack Frost nipping at your nose."

"That wasn't a nip." He offers her a pout and she laughs.

"Later," she replies with a small smile and a wave of the finger, "Now help me open this door."

They press their bodies against the wood, and it takes a couple of minutes, but it finally creaks open. "Hard stuff, huh?" Jamie remarks, "I think that sleigh I had as a kid was made out of this." His hands rubs against the wood, as he tries to remember. But his thoughts are foggy and grey. He can remember sledding, but no particular day. The feel of snow on his back, and frost on his toes. The sound of his sleigh hitting a snowbank, sending him flying across the icy ground.

The air hits them both like a brick, stiff and cold. It's surprising, hadn't it been sunny only an hour or so before? Surely the weatherman would've mentioned the possibility of snow in the morning's forecast?

He's shocked, frozen in place as he takes in the scene before them. The green grass that had surrounded the property before was covered in a light dusting of snow. Small flakes are drifting down from the sky. Jamie sticks out a hand and catches a few which quickly melt in his hand.

"This is unreal," his wife huffs as she slips her hand from his and lifts the end of her dress just high enough to keep herself from tripping down the church's stairs. "It's almost EASTER FOR GOD'S SAKE!" 

Something tells him to comfort her, possibly hubby-instinct, but he doesn't act on it. Instead he finds himself laughing, rolling actually. He throws his head back and laughs so hard he's practically gasping for air. And he's not the only one. They have a crowd behind them now, staring out at the fresh blanket of snow just as confused as the two newlyweds. 

"What's so funny?" His wife turns to face him, her face red. He can tell she's confused and a little frustrated (and how could she not will all the planning they'd put in hopes of creating the perfect day), but as she takes him in and his laugh subsides to barely stiffened giggles, she can't help but crack a smile herself.

"J-Jack Frost."

And as he says it, he can almost swear there's laughter in the wind as well. 


	2. Thin Ice

**Part Two:** Thin Ice

or 'the one where it's Christmas and a present appears that Jamie can't remember buying'

* * *

Jamie's grown used to the game of sleeping and not sleeping, and pretending to be asleep. He sleeps when he has the time (which is like never) what with paperwork always on the table and the little bar in the comer of his computer blinking despite the number of times he plugs it in. When he's not sleeping (which is usually the case) he's running around picking up toys, dropping off children, picking up children and as much as he sees them, never having enough time for the children. And then lastly, there are the times when he pretends to sleep. This is where he is now; face down in his pillow, breathing a little too deeply to be comfortable, all the while keeping his ears perked for the rustle of little toes on the wood floor.

"Shh-h," he hears his oldest whisper, if you could call it a whisper (really its only slightly lower than her usual toddler voice). Something mumbles back, quiet and almost inaudible.

"Ah so they're in cahoots," the other occupant of his bed whispers. His wife peaks out from beneath the thick comforter, pulling their hands (fingers still entangled; thank god he finally found that damn ring) out with her.

"Well," Jamie adds lowering his voice, as the feet have gotten closer, "It's that time of year, you know. To put aside one's differences and work together."

She opens her mouth to retort, but before she can even form a word on her lips, a noise sounding very similar to that of a battle cry explodes from near the edge of the bed, and Jamie's lost his breath at the tiny body that hits his stomach with the strength of what he can only imagine a cannonball may feel like. 

"What the-"

"Hi,  Daddy." She peeks out from his chest, eyes wide and excited, "It's morning!" Jamie chuckles, before gathering the young girl in his arms and cuddling her close, "Can we open presents? Please?" she reaches up and kisses his nose in order to better her odds.  Jamie's face turns serious for a moment when he says, "I don't know, have you been good this year?"

"I have! You can ask Jack!" She lifts a chubby finger and points it to the child who has wormed his way up onto the bed and lies with his small head against his wife's chest. The baby gurgles in response, and Jamie trails off with a final tease, "I dunno ..." The face she makes in return, one of frustration at her father's antics, leaves him unable to keep up the charade and he can't help but laugh in response.

"Alright, _okay_ ," Jamie says with a dramatic sigh as if she'd finally wore him down, "But only if you can beat me to the tree first!" He sweeps the girl from the bed and offers her a head start as they race to the bedroom door and out into the hallway. 

* * *

It doesn't take long to unwrap the presents. Small balls of discarded wrapping are littered around the small family, as the children inspect their new toys.

"Wait," his wife says, as the eldest tries her best to open the packaging on one of her new dolls, "We aren't finished yet!" This grabs his daughter's attention and she quickly forgets the package in front of her. 

"There's more?" she asks, eyes wide.

His wife pulls up the tree skirt, revealing a final bulky package which she passes to the eldest. Jamie can't recognize the wrapping paper as it doesn't match the rest they'd used to wrap the children's presents the night before. It's simple and brown, a similar color and constancy to the thick paper bags at their local grocery store. But perhaps his wife had bought something last minute as she was known to do, and had hid behind the tree after Jamie had gone to bed (she was a perfectionist after all, and usually ended up re-wrapping Jamie's presents after he'd finished as she was unsatisfied with his wrapping job).

"Is this you?" Jamie whispers, nudging his wife beneath the ribs as his eldest helps the baby tear away at the paper. She shakes her head, her expression confused, and mouths back, "You?"

Jamie returns her bewildered gaze, no, he was sure the two had unwrapped all his presents and the ones from 'Santa Claus.' Paternal fear hits him. Of course his wife wouldn't have used such basic wrapping paper. She was known for her intricate ribbon work and clean, folded lines.

"Whose it from honey?" His wife asks the children cautiously, peering over her daughter's shoulder to see the tag. The child grips the rather large, but oddly shaped gift in two hands and pulls it close. The present was a common shape, rectangular like the other presents that had come in boxes, and Jamie mulls over a mental list of the toys his children had been asking for from Santa Claus. Power Rangers? No. Jack already got two sets of those, and it couldn't be the little Barbie car his daughter had requested for it was already out of it box and was sitting unoccupied and forgotten beneath the tree.

"Jack," the child reads proudly.

"Very good, now whose it from?"

"Jack," his daughter repeats.

His wife shakes her head, but repeats, "Honey, who is the gift from? That's under Jack's name."

"I already told you," the girl replies with a roll of her eyes.. Turning to the baby, she offers the gift, "Here Jack, this one's for you!" The baby, still too young to speak, gives an excited babble on hands and knees. Together (but mostly with help from the big sister), the two pull away the final piece of wrapping and reveal what appears to be a shoebox.

"I'll open it for you," his daughter tells the baby as she pulls off the top of the box before Jamie or his wife could react.

Beneath the crinkled tissue paper is a pair of antique ice skates. Though worn and tired in the leather, the blades are sharp, well crafted, and beautiful. The children, too young to appreciate or even use the gift, quickly forget about the parcel and return to their earlier presents. 

Jamie doesn't say a word for a moment. There's something odd about the skates. If he believed in that kind of stuff, he would've said there was a strange aura around them. Not negative, but strange, almost familiar and comforting as if they were an old friend he hadn't seen in years. Carefully, he runs his hands over the cool blade. "So this wasn't you?" his wife mumbles, her hands sifting through wrapping paper as she searches for the tag her daughter had discarded.

"No, and it wasn't you either?"

His wife shakes her head, her hands still groping around for the tag. It's Jamie who finds it: a pale, light blue square of paper. He opens it slowly, curiosity overwhelming parental suspicion.

The message is simple and written in an almost childish and messy scrawl:

_"To Jack,_

_Never stop believing._

_\- Jack."_

  
  
  



	3. Dark and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter that's been completely re-written. If you wish to read the original which makes a little less sense but goes in a different direction please find my account @ sunday showers on ff.net and search up the story Dark and Cold!  
> I hope you've enjoyed these short stories :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major character death ahead, boys

**Part Three:** Dark and Cold

or 'the one where Jamie and Jack are finally reunited and also Jamie dies'

(the finale)

* * *

The deterioration of his body wasn't fast, but it sure felt like it. He knew that it took a while for the disease to slowly work its way through one's body, but it had felt like everything had given up at once. There was some pain here and there, arthritis in one finger, a slight pain in a knee, but now he was in the hospital when only last week he'd been easily making his way down the aisles of the local grocery store with nothing more than his cane.

It'd been a long time since he'd felt the touch of another human, having lost his wife and children several years before. Any other person would've died long ago as few made it to triple digits and yet here he still was, breathing (or struggling to breath) and with a heart that still beat (though it felt as though there was more and more distance between each). Sophie's at his side, almost triple digits herself and just as alone, having lost her husband the summer prior. When his youngest had died, she'd wanted him to move in with her and her husband, but Jamie preferred being alone, it was better than being pitied. 

The hospital bed isn't the most comfortable, but at this point he doesn't really care. He can barely feel much, but there's a soft warmth radiating from Sophie's hand as she wipes away a stray tear from beneath his eye. Jamie hadn't even realized he'd begun to cry.

"Your skin's cold," she says softly. It's only three words, but she can't keep her voice from cracking.

"It happens when you're old," Jamie smiles in response, doing his best to keep the tension light. His sister's face is worn around the edges, with wrinkles here and there. Purple skin danced beneath her eyes, unable to be masked by a dash of mascara or cover-up. She was just as tired as he was, but he was glad to see her still holding on.

_ Good,  _ he thinks,  _ Please keep going.  _ He knows it'll be tough once he's gone, because then she'll have no one left for she hadn't had any children, and Jamie's grandkids were out of state and Sophie refused to move out of the old home she'd shared with her husband.

"Why was it like this?" Sophie's question pulls him from his thoughts. She picks herself up from the chair the staff had placed beside his bed and moves to sit beside him on the mattress. Like everything else in the room, the bed smells heavy of bleach and lemon pledge. The bed barely squeaks as she settles next to him, she's too light to make much of a sound. Above them the fluorescent light gives a shudder, and blink, once then twice. The light dims a little, but doesn't go out. Jamie glances out the window beside his bed, through the cataracts he can barely make out a soft snow. "Why us? What did we ever do to deserve to live this long?"

"What do you mean?" Jamie asks, though he needn't bother. He knew what she meant. People weren't meant to live as long as they had. To outlive one's loved ones, especially one's children was devastating. If it hadn't been for Sophie, Jamie was sure he would've been praying for death.

Sophie responds anyway, if only to fill the silence. "My husband," she whispers, "your children, your wife." Her mouth moves as if to say more, but the sound stops coming. Her shoulders shudder sharply, and Jamie can't help himself as he tries to reach out for her arm. But there's no connection between his limbs and the mental command. His hand lies there on his chest, lifeless and unmoving. Certain areas of his body could feel, but very little responded to him now.

"I know you're tired, Jamie," Sophie continues, her attention on the bedspread below her. He tries to meet her eye, but she refuses to look at him. He can tell she's embarrassed to voice her concerns, but she continues nonetheless. "I know it's selfish, Jamie, but I'm scared to be alone."

"No," he replies hoarsely. It takes a lot of energy to even get his tongue to form the words. He wants to say more, so much more, but he's tired. There's black spots in his vision that are growing bigger with each blink. The ringing in his ears is growing louder, drowning out whatever Sophie's is trying to say. He can barely make her out now, but he can see her mouth is moving.

_ Jamie. Jamie! JAMIE! _

His mind is fading, all thoughts flowing together. He's tired, so tired. Exhaustion has claimed his body, his heart, his mind. His eyelid's are so heavy that he can no longer even keep them open. 

* * *

Jamie awakens to the sound of the machinery around him flatlining, but he ignores it. His thoughts are a jumbled mess and he can't seem to remember where he is, all he knows is that he's warm.  The room has grown even dimmer, as if someone had flipped a switch while he'd slept. Through the window (which are suddenly much clearer? Had someone been in to clean them? Were they dirty? He couldn't remember) he can see that time has passed, possibly hours, and that he is alone. It's pitch-black outside and the flurry that had been falling earlier, had stopped leaving barely a trace. 

It was still too early to snow, wasn't it? Jamie couldn't help but wonder. When he'd spoken to the nurse that morning, she'd mentioned it was sometime mid-October though Jamie couldn't remember the actual date.

Jamie is struck by how warm he feels. Even in the dim light from the bulbs above him (note to self, he couldn't help but think, he'd have to mention that to his nurse when she came in next), there was something comforting and warm about the room around him. Sophie was gone and yet it felt as though someone was still here, though he couldn't see anyone. 

"Hello?" Jamie calls out into the empty room. Usually the nurse left the door to his room open so that if he needed something he could could call out or make eye contact with passing staff, as his fingers were unable to reach the button on his bed usually used to ring for aid.

"HELLO?" Jamie calls again, surprised by the strength behind his voice. It'd been so long since he'd been able to speak so loudly. "Is anyone there?" But there's nothing, not even the usual murmur of staff talking and moving just outside his room's walls.

"Please, anyone?"

Beside his bedside, the old radio crackles to life. The hospital he'd been checked into was technologically advanced, but he'd brought the radio from home. It'd been his father's, still utilized in his childhood home as well the home he'd shared with his wife and children years ago despite the creation of iPhones and other such gadgets. There was something comforting about the old radio, something about it that made him feel young. As he took in the machine he couldn't help but feel thankful for the many times he caught his wife about to throw the old thing out.

"Hello?"

The radio's knob seems to turn on its own. Jamie knows he should be afraid, but he's not. The feeling in the room is still warm, comforting and familiar. Though he'd never truly believed in ghosts, he supposed he'd be open to whatever being was in his room now. He can clearly see from his place on the bed that the thing is still unplugged (as it had been since the staff he begun to connect him to more and more machines as his condition worsened and they needed more outlets), but there's no fear there. Jamie welcomes the change of pace, the familiar sound of static as the radio jumps from station to station on its own.

After a few minutes of jumping, the radio settles on a station. The music it plays is cherry and familiar, the usual tunes played during the Christmas season. It's much too early for Christmas songs to be on the radio as it's mid-October after all, but there's something about the songs that feels right. Jamie smiles as one song bleeds into the next. _What a friendly ghost_ , he can't help but think and almost laughs at the thought. Band-Aid's 'Do They Know It's Christmas Time' blends into an old favorite of his, Nat King Cole's 'The Christmas Song' and Jamie find himself humming along.

_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire_  
_ Jack Frost nipping at your nose ~ _

With his attention on the radio, Jamie turns away from the window. Absorbed in the song, he doesn't notice the soft sound of frost as it spreads across the window, moving across the panes and forming beautiful, abstract pictures.

_What a talented ghost,_ he probably would've thought, if he'd turned back and saw.

Nat King Cole's song finishes and Jamie' sad to hear it end. It's strange that the station seems to have no DJ or ad breaks, but it doesn't bother him. He feels weird, the radio is strange, nothing about this was normal at all and for the first time Jamie wonders if he's dreaming. That would explain the strange happenings as well as his sudden vision and the lack of pain in his limbs.

'Jamie?'

The voice is deeper and more masculine than Sophie's. Familiar but he's unable to place it. Everyone at the staff called him but his full name James and others preferred Mr. Bennett, nobody other than Sophie referred to him as Jamie.

'Can you hear me? It's been a while, hasn't it?'

If it wasn't a dream then perhaps he was going insane. He was pretty old after all, it wouldn't be impossible for him to be losing it. In all honesty, he was surprised he'd held it together so long. Surely he should've been seeing some hallucinations by now.

'Jamie.'

"Whose there?"

The radio goes quiet and there's a noise similar to that of kernels popping in the microwave coming from the window. Jamie rolls over and takes in the window's imagery with his mouth slightly agape. The frost is cracking, breaking off into small pieces until the art that had once been there is unrecognizable. 

'Jamie, can you hear me now?'

The voice is close, not in his ear but close enough that Jamie can hear it very clearly.

"Who are you?"

'It's me,' the voice replies and at the same time Jamie feels a dip in the mattress beside him as if someone were sitting next to him. 'You can't seem me unless you remember who I am and what we've been through.'

"Can you give me a hint?" 

There's a chuckle and then the sound of the radio switching stations again. Nat King Cole's voice pumps through the radio's speakers, repeating the same line over and over like a scratched CD skipping:

_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire  
Jack Frost nipping at your nose ~_

And then as if a switch inside of him had been switched, the memories return, slowly at first, filling in empty spots of memory like a child coloring in a page of a picture book.

Jamie's visions swims before him. The lights dim and then brighten and dim again as the appearance of a young man with white hair and a sad smile come into view.

"Do you remember now, Jamie?"

The older man nods, the smile on his face mirroring that on the face of his old friend.

Jamie shivers as if he could feel the melted slush on his back he flew through the air and landed into the snowbank. He remembered the fear and the tight feelings in his chest when he'd first caught sight of Pitch Black . The memories resurfaced so strongly that Jamie couldn't believe he'd ever forgotten them.

His tone teasing, Jamie replies, "Everyone's got to grow up sometime,  _ Jack _ ."

"It's good to see you again," replies the winter spirit, a gust of cool air filling the area as he speaks. "I was worried you'd forgotten me for good."

Jamie shrugs, and then adds, "Well, you've got good timing." He motions to the monitors attached to his body, the surfaces of their screens covered with frost at Jack's arrival, "A couple days later and you would've missed me."

Jack's smile melts into a frown. "Jamie." Though he only says a single word, his tone speaks volumes. Jamie takes a good look at the monsters. The frost is thin enough that he can still make out the glowing line. He gulps as he notes that it's no longer moving and is instead straight.

"Well," Jamie says softly, "Everyone's got to go sometime."

The look on Jack's face is heartbreaking. The winter spirit is close to tears and if his heart were still beating, Jamie's sure he would've felt it clench. 

"No, Jamie! I just - I, please, you can't go. You're a kid,  _ my  _ kid, and it's my duty to protect you."

Jamie can't help but laugh dryly at that. "From Pitch, remember? And you did that. Besides that, I'm an adult, Jack. I'm an old man and ... " He trails off for a minute as he motions to the surrounding monitors, "I'm dead! It happens, that's how life works! What were you hoping to happen? That I'd remember at the last minute and somehow stop myself from dying? That by appearing as I died you could somehow reverse the process? I know you're a powerful spirit, Jack, but I'm pretty sure you can't do anything to stop this."

Jack's face falls. Having raised a son himself, he can see that Jack's stubborn and wants to fight. Though he was no longer attached to his body, Jamie can't help but feel old and tired in that moment. Jack may be centuries older than him, but Jamie had matured much faster.

"Jamie, listen! You can't die! There's nothing left, nothing after this! If I could become a spirit, surely you can too?" 

The warm, comforting feeling Jamie had felt upon first waking up is long gone now. The room had grown cold, again and the air was thick with tension. Jack was smart, Jamie knew that. Surely he could understand that not everyone had the second chance that Jack was given and Jamie was okay with that. Though it'd been so long since they'd last spoke face-to-face, Jamie could feel a familiar sense of love bubbling up in his chest. The same sort of love he felt for Sophie. The fear in Jack's face was similar to that his younger sister. He was afraid to be alone. He was afraid of change and of things he could not predict or control.

"There are other children out there, Jack, and they need you just as badly as I did."

Jack's voice catches and Jamie can't help but feel surprised. The last time he's seen Jack, Jamie had been a little boy and Jack had been this older brother figure - strong, safe, and protective, but now places were reverse and it was Jack that needed comforting.

"I doesn't want to lose you, Jamie. Why - why do you think I've tried so hard to keep you around?"

"That was you?"

Jack nods and replies softly, "I'm sorry. I know it's been hard but I couldn't help myself ..." He trails off for a moment and then adds almost sheepishly, "And uh, doesn't tell Sophie, but neither could Bunnymund."

"Well, I don't think he has much to worry about," Jamie chuckles kindly, "I don't think I'll be able to talk with her again for quite a while."

The joke is dark, but Jamie says it anyway. He'll miss Sophie and even if Jack was right and there was nothing after this, he's sure they'd be able to connect in some other way, whether it be as ghosts or spirits or something else. The rooms is even colder and that Jamie had first thought this was because of Jack's appearance, he was beginning to wonder if it was something else. He no longer felt confined within the hospital room, nor connect to the Earth. It felt as though he was fading and from the look on Jack's face (a face full of shock, fear, and mourning), perhaps he was physically fading as well.

"Jack," Jamie says, "I don't where I am going or what comes after this, but you've been with me my whole life long even after I forgot and you watched over me. We may not be able to talk after this or see one another, but I'm with you and you're with me. Even if you forgot, I'll be there, I promise in some way or some form even if it's a sense of comfort or a distant memory."

Before he could respond, Jamie could feel his eyes growing heavy again and body tired. The world swam before his vision and Jack had begun to disappear from his vision. The last image he could see was Jack pale's hand reaching out for him in a sea of spots of black in the corner of his vision as the darkness overtook him once again. 


End file.
